She let out an acerbic laugh. “I only suggested you go on dates, meet people, work on your social life. It’s just like you to go all out and do more than asked of you. And it might have worked had you put yourself into a more plausible situation. You aren’t the type to have a relationship, but if you did, Holden Henry would not be the match for you. I might have only talked to him for a few minutes, but I could tell he’s outgoing, likable, Mr. Social, a friend to all. You… are not. The two of you as a couple makes no sense, Chloe, and everyone can see that.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out, because she’d hit me there. Exactly in my Achilles’ heel.

“My trust in you has been broken,” Angelica said. “You have thirty minutes to gather your belongings. You’re fired.”

Chapter 23

Chloe

It only took me four minutes to box up my belongings, as I hadn’t brought much of anything personal in. I wasn’t the type to keep nonessential things in my work area.

I gasped when the thought struck me: For the first time in my adult life, I didn’t have a work area.

I didn’t have a job.

Without saying goodbye to anyone—I knew Angelica was still lurking about somewhere and wouldn’t allow it even if I did feel like I could show my face—I left via the least-used door and crumpled into the relative safety of my car.

I’d managed to hold it together so far, but the instant my door closed, I let out a shaky exhale that turned into a pained moan as I flung my hands over my face.

My house of cards had collapsed.

All the work I’d done the past twelve years, actually more than that—my college years, high school—had culminated in exactly nothing.

My fake marriage to Holden was a waste.

The life I’d tried to build in my hometown the past few weeks was a mirage.

Holding in sobs, because anyone could walk by me there in the Marks parking lot, I shut out the world by turning my phone off. Then I started my car, backed out, and hightailed it away, wiping tears out of my eyes so I could see enough to drive.

I headed toward home—

No. Not home. What a joke. It wasn’t my home. It was Holden’s. It was where I’d tried to act like I belonged for the past few weeks. But it wasn’t where I belonged.

I wasn’t sure where I belonged, frankly.